


Green Means Go

by Wonko



Series: Traffic Lights [3]
Category: Holby City
Genre: Duck Discourse, Ducks, F/F, Porn with Feelings, Posh Smut, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-11 16:30:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13528170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wonko/pseuds/Wonko
Summary: Bernie and Serena's careful courtship reaches its inevitable conclusion.





	1. Ding Ding Ding

**Author's Note:**

> I had intended for this to just be a one-shot of porn, but I guess it turned into a multi-chapter porn and feelings extravaganza because I'm just that extra.

The twenty minute journey between the hospital and her home seemed to stretch into infinity. The sensation of time expanding wasn’t helped, if Serena was honest, by the woman next to her. Bernie was fidgeting, twisting and wriggling in her seat and being monumentally distracting.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I was in a relationship with a two year old with ADHD,” Serena said as they pulled up at a red light - honestly, what were the odds of hitting every single one? - and she applied the handbrake. She half turned towards Bernie and smiled, the warmth in her eyes belying the sarcasm of her tone.

“Sorry,” Bernie murmured, a light blush colouring her cheekbones. “I just…”

“Just what?” Serena prompted when Bernie made no move to complete her sentence.

Bernie shrugged. “Just can’t wait to get you alone.” She turned to look at Serena at last, her eyes dark and smouldering, and it would have taken a much stronger woman than Serena not to curl her fingers round the back of her neck and tug her forward for a kiss. It began as a light brushing of lips - almost chaste, or as chaste as a kiss between them could ever be - but then Bernie’s lips parted and her tongue flicked out to taste Serena’s lips and they were lost. Serena moaned low in her throat and deepened the kiss, her hands threading through Bernie’s hair, her blunt nails scratching across her scalp. 

“So beautiful,” Bernie whispered whenever she had a moment for a breath. “God, Serena, do you have any idea what you do to me?”

Serena shifted slightly in her seat. “I have some idea,” she replied, kissing Bernie again and again and again.

The loud, impatient honk of a horn behind them made them spring apart. Serena glanced back, dazed, and met the eyes of a scandalised looking elderly couple in a Vauxhall Astra. How strange to think that something as prosaic as a Vauxhall Astra existed in the same world as the one in which she and Bernie Wolfe were about to lock themselves away in a bedroom and tear each other’s clothes off.

She was relatively sure there would be tearing. She was too keyed up, too desperate from five weeks of slow courtship to be soft and gentle. That would come later, she thought with a small smile.

_ And that’s not the only thing,  _ her mind supplied. She was too turned on to be embarrassed by the direction her thoughts had taken.

“Sorry!” she called, shooting the driver of the Astra a wave and a smile. “Green light,” she muttered, turning back around and releasing the handbrake so they could go.

Bernie just nodded, her eyes glazed. “Green means go,” she said, her voice sounding similar to how it sounded when she was drunk. 

“It certainly does,” Serena agreed.

For a moment her mind drifted back to that glorious night at Albie’s, when she’d flicked her light to green and Bernie’s eyes had lit up in surprise and joy. Then when they’d left together… She hadn’t meant to drag Bernie into an alley, but she’d found she couldn’t wait. She’d been thinking of kissing Bernie for weeks, she couldn’t stop herself from making daydreams a reality once she was sure she wasn’t alone in this pull, this attraction to her best and dearest friend.

She pulled into her driveway and released her seatbelt with trembling fingers. She watched as Bernie did the same, then wordlessly threw open the car door and headed towards the house. She fumbled with her house key, trying and failing to slide it into the lock three times before she heard Bernie’s door slam and felt her presence sidling up behind her. She released a shaky breath as Bernie rested her hands on her hips and bent her head to kiss the thundering pulse in her throat. Serena’s eyes flickered closed for a second and she leaned back into Bernie, her solid presence grounding her and inflaming her all at once.

“I’m going to take such good care of you, Serena,” Bernie whispered into her ear. Serena shuddered at the feeling of Bernie’s breath, hot and wet and flowing gently over her skin like the wings of a thousand butterflies.

With a supreme effort of will, Serena finally felt the key slip home. She shoved the door open then reached for Bernie’s hand and tugged her inside, and the only thought in her head was that she needed to get her alone, needed to kiss her and touch her and see her and know that she was hers, at long last.

The door had barely closed before Bernie found herself shoved back against it, Serena’s mouth pressing insistently against hers. She parted her lips and returned the kiss eagerly, moaning into Serena’s mouth and curling her hands round the swell of her hips.

Serena’s hands were everywhere. She couldn’t decide where she wanted to touch. Her hair? Glorious as always, but she could do that almost anywhere. She should be taking advantage of this newfound freedom and privacy. She remembered sliding her hands under Bernie’s shirt in the darkness of the cinema, the way her muscles had contracted and her breath had caught.  _ Yes,  _ she thought,  _ more of that, please.  _ So she let her hands drift lower, over the soft cotton of Bernie’s shirt - who would have thought that a simple white shirt could be so bloody sexy? - and finally underneath it. She met another layer, a black vest top that was tucked into those sinful skinny jeans. Impatiently she tugged at it, dragging it up until finally - finally! - her fingers met skin. She was rewarded with a gasp and the tell-tale contraction of Bernie’s stomach muscles. Serena felt a thrill of arousal shoot through her at the first touch of Bernie’s skin and she tore her lips away from their kiss, suddenly desperate for a breath. She buried her face in Bernie’s neck, chest heaving, heart racing. Bernie’s arms came up to pull her closer, wrapping round her shoulders, holding her tight.

“Are you okay?” Bernie whispered, her voice seeming preternaturally loud in the silence of the empty house.

Serena nodded sharply. “Oh darling, you would not believe how okay I am.” She nuzzled into Bernie’s neck, kissing and nipping behind her ear, over her thundering pulse, trailing down towards her collarbone and sternum. Her hands splayed out over Bernie’s stomach, curling round her waist.

A strangled moan was ripped from Bernie’s throat at the feeling of Serena’s lips on her skin. She threw her head back, barely noticing the sharp crack as her skull met the solid wood of the door. “Serena,” she breathed, her fingers threading into her hair, stroking and lightly tugging on the short strands.

“God,” Serena murmured, her lips trailing over the skin of Bernie’s sternum. “I need to touch you. Please. Please let me touch you.”

Bernie’s breath came in a series of shuddering gasps. “I’m not arguing with you,” she managed to reply, and then her breath was stolen when she felt Serena’s fingers fumbling with the button of her jeans. She seemed to be having some trouble with the fastening. Bernie thought about helping her, but she wasn’t entirely sure she’d have any more luck herself. She felt drunk, like Serena’s kisses were a rich, red wine. Her head was swimming with desire and all she wanted was to feel Serena’s skin against hers.

She pushed insistently at Serena’s coat, shoving it roughly away from her shoulders. Serena paused and pulled her hands away just long enough to let it fall in a heap on the floor, then returned her attention to the button of Bernie’s jeans. She managed to unfasten it at last and sighed in pleasure as she suddenly had more room. She slipped her hands below the waistband of Bernie’s jeans, sliding firmly over her backside and squeezing.

“Fuck,” Bernie muttered and her hips thrust forward of their own accord. Serena pressed forward to meet her and she gasped.

Oh, she was in trouble.

With a desperate groan, she slid her hands into Serena’s hair and pulled her up for a kiss. Their lips crashed together, hot and wet and frantic, and Serena’s hands shoved a little, sliding Bernie’s jeans down a couple of inches. She felt Serena’s thigh push insistently between hers. Serena tugged on her backside, pressing them together, using the momentum to build up some delicious friction.

“Oh God,” Bernie moaned, her hips thrusting forwards without her conscious thought. She was as taut as a rubber band that was about to snap, about two seconds from throwing all of her careful seduction plans out the window in favour of a desperate knee trembler up against the door, fully clothed and gasping. Dimly she became aware of Serena’s hand sliding down her thigh to just above her knee, lifting her foot off the ground to make more room.

“Uh oh,” was all she managed to say before she lost her balance, toppling over slightly to the left before she somehow stopped herself from collapsing onto the floor. Serena grabbed her shoulders, her grip slightly the wrong side of painful. “Ouch!”

“Sorry!” Serena’s breath was coming in ragged gasps, but her eyes seemed a little sharper now they weren’t actually kissing. “You’re less limber than I expected.”

“I’m fifty one,” was all Bernie could say in reply. 

Serena threw her head back and laughed. “All right,” she said at last, gently. “Let’s change this from vertical to horizontal, shall we?” She trailed her hand down Bernie’s arm and tangled their fingers together, grinning as she tugged her towards the stairs.

“That is a fantastic idea,” Bernie ground out as she eagerly followed her.

Somehow they made it upstairs without any further mishaps. Bernie had intended to drink in the atmosphere of Serena’s bedroom, to take in the decor and the ambience, but it immediately became apparent that any such perusal would have to wait. Serena was kissing her from the moment the door closed, pressing her forward until the back of her knees met the edge of the bed and she fell backwards. Serena let her go, staring down at her with dark, hooded eyes.

“Take off your shirt,” she muttered.

Bernie flushed about four different shades of red as she fumbled with the buttons. Her fingers felt almost numb and she had to look down to make sure she was doing it right. When she looked up again, Serena’s shirt was on the floor and she was standing before her topless but for a leopard print bra. Her cheeks were a little pink but she met Bernie’s eyes steadily.

“Oh, dear God,” Bernie gasped, surging forward and wrapping her arms round Serena’s waist, burying her face in her neck. The feel of her naked skin was shocking, so warm and soft and wonderful. With trembling fingers, she reached up and unhooked the clasp of Serena’s bra, feeling the other woman gasp when she managed it in one try.

“May I?” she asked, almost reverently.

“Ye-yes,” came the shaky reply, and Bernie wasted no time in pulling the lurid animal print off Serena’s shoulders and down her arms.

“Oh, Serena,” Bernie murmured, when the bra finally dropped to the floor. “You are...magnificent.” She raked her eyes over the goosebumps erupting on Serena’s flesh; the vast expanse of creamy skin now revealed to her; her nipples, dusky pink and tightening from no more stimulation than her heated gaze. Possessed with a desire to touch and to taste at long last, Bernie leaned forward and closed her lips round the nipple of Serena’s left breast, her hand sliding up her torso to cup the right, her thumb playing with the peak as if to reassure it that it hadn’t been forgotten and that its turn would come. 

Serena sucked in a ragged breath and threaded her fingers into Bernie’s hair. “Oh, God,” she moaned desperately. Had she ever reacted to a new lover’s touch like this? Then again, had she ever engaged in such long, tortuous months’ of foreplay with any other lover? It felt like they’d been flirting their way to this moment since that day in February when their eyes had first met over Serena’s dodgy alternator.

“Take this off,” she gasped, tugging at Bernie’s vest-top. “I need to see you.”

Bernie pulled back just long enough to pull her top over her head and quickly unclasp her plain black bra. Both pieces of clothing dropped to the floor, forgotten, while Serena took in the wondrous sight laid bare before her at last. “Oh,” she murmured, trailing her fingers over the scar bisecting Bernie’s sternum, watching her chest rise and fall with the ragged pace of her breath. Gently, she pressed down on Bernie’s shoulders until she was lying back on her elbows, then turned her attention to the jeans she’d partially begun to remove in the hallway. Bernie raised her hips obligingly as Serena peeled them off. Her underwear, shoes and socks went with the jeans and, within a couple of moments, she was naked, leaning back and staring up at Serena with dark, hooded eyes.

“Your turn,” she said, nodding towards Serena’s trousers.

Serena waited for the prick of self-consciousness she always felt at this moment, but it didn’t come. She had hangups about her hips and thighs, always had, especially since Edward’s not-so-subtle campaign against “love handles” and “lumps and bumps” in the dying days of their marriage. It hadn’t helped that he’d always cheated with younger, thinner, firmer women. But somehow, the worry over what Bernie would think was simply failing to materialise. Perhaps it was because Bernie was a woman too, used to the insecurities and self-reproach that women were indoctrinated to feel. Perhaps it was because Bernie was her friend and she trusted her absolutely. Perhaps it was the sheer, naked desire in Bernie’s eyes as she looked at her.

Perhaps it was a combination of the three.

Whatever the reason, she found herself grinning widely as she stripped off the last of her clothes and crawled onto the bed beside Bernie. The other woman opened her arms and Serena pressed against her with a sigh of utter contentment.

Bernie’s skin was so warm, so soft, with curves exactly matching her own. Being held by her, naked and vulnerable and hypersensitive, was a revelation. It was just the right side of too much. Serena felt her head begin to swim with the sensation of being in Bernie’s arms, every barrier between them stripped away at last.

“I want to…” Serena began, trailing her hands up and down Bernie’s back, feeling the play of muscles beneath her fingertips. “But I’ve never...I mean, I’m not sure how…”

“Serena,” Bernie interrupted, kissing her cheek, then her neck, then her heaving chest. “Despite what straight men may have led you to believe, it’s not that hard to give a woman an orgasm.” She smiled against Serena’s skin. “You’ve probably done it yourself thousands of times.”

Serena’s breath caught. “Tens of thousands,” she said when she could manage to speak. Bernie’s hands were in her hair, slowly stroking and teasing, sending bolts of electricity through every nerve ending.

“There you are then,” Bernie replied. “Easy peasy.”

“Still…” Serena continued. “Perhaps you could show me first.”

Bernie’s hands slowly stilled. “Are you sure?”

Serena didn’t think any question had ever been less necessary. Wordlessly, she took Bernie’s hand and kissed the knuckles one by one. Then she pulled it down her body until Bernie’s fingers sunk into the warm wetness between her thighs. “Do you have any idea how much it takes to get a fifty one year old woman into this state?” she murmured, her eyes fluttering closed as she felt Bernie’s fingers begin moving against her.

Bernie shifted her hips slightly until Serena could feel an answering wetness pressing urgently against her thigh. “I do, actually,” Bernie breathed into her ear. “Months of slow torture.” She kissed the curve of Serena’s throat. “Weeks of nothing but kisses.” Her fingers began to move more purposefully. “I’d planned for foreplay and romance and a slow build up,” she murmured. “But there’s really no need, is there? You’re so ready for me, Serena.”

“Yes.” Serena’s reply was a strangled moan. Her hips began to undulate entirely without her input, desperate for pressure, for friction, for anything that would finally assuage this ache.

Bernie trailed her lips along her cheek, her neck, behind her ear. “I’m going to fuck you now, Serena,” she murmured, and Serena thought she might come from the promise alone.

She was so wet, so ready, that two fingers sank in with no need for preamble. Serena’s head slammed back against the pillow, a low keening sound emitting from her throat. Those fingers, those long, dextrous, talented fingers, moving inside her at last, fluttering, pushing, thrusting. Her hips pushed back, the two of them setting up a rhythm and pace that was leading inexorably to an inevitable conclusion.

“You’re so beautiful, Serena,” Bernie whispered hotly in her ear as they moved together. “So gorgeous. I wanted you from the moment I saw you, did you know that?” She sighed, her warm breath ghosting over Serena’s over-sensitive skin and making her shudder. “I love touching you. You feel so good. So warm, so wet. So perfect.”

Serena clutched at her, her hands wrapped around those strong shoulders. She was moaning, sighing, panting like she’d just run a race, and so bloody close she thought she might die if she had to wait much longer. And Bernie seemed to know exactly what she needed, because her fingers stilled inside her and her thumb moved up to press just to one side of her clit, like she knew that direct contact when she was so keyed up would be too much. No movement was required, not now, just pressure, just the tiniest pressure in the right place, and suddenly Serena was throbbing, fluttering, coming on Bernie’s hand and almost sobbing with something that felt like relief as much as pleasure. It was so good, so bloody wonderful to finally let herself go, to feel the promise that had sprouted the first day she’d met Bernie all those months ago blossom at last into full bloom.

“Oh, God…” she moaned when she finally began to calm down. “Jesus, Bernie…”

Bernie hummed in satisfaction. “Never took you for the religious type,” she said. The grin splitting her face was infectious and Serena found herself smiling back, almost giddy with joy.

“I may have found something to worship,” she said, her dark eyes raking up and down her lover’s naked body. Gently she pushed on Bernie’s shoulders until she was on her back, nestled against the pillows. She stared up at Serena, eyes shining with an emotion Serena wasn’t ready to name. She leaned down and kissed her, luxuriating in the feel of their lips sliding together gently, languorously. It took a few moments of soft kissing before she became aware of the tension in Bernie’s body, the stiffness of her limbs, the heat radiating out from her. She broke the kiss with a soft smile. “Obviously I’m an amateur at this sapphic seduction business,” she began slowly. “But I hope you enjoy this as much as I’m going to.”

She dropped another kiss onto her mouth, then pressed her lips against her neck, her chest, her stomach, the top of her thigh. “Oh, fuck,” Bernie muttered when she realised what Serena was doing. “You...you don’t have to…”

Serena glanced up the length of her body and raised an eyebrow. “If you think for one moment I’m going to let you deny me this, my darling,” she said, then dipped her head and took her first taste.

The breath was knocked from Bernie’s lungs as surely as if she’d taken a blow to the solar plexus. It wasn’t so much the sensation - although dear God, that was delightful enough - but the thought, the very  _ idea,  _ that Serena Campbell was nestled between her thighs, using her mouth, her lips, oh Jesus her  _ tongue… _

Serena had thought about this quite a lot over the last couple of months - first with a kind of forbidden, naughty thrill, then with curiosity, then with naked, wanton desire. The question of what Bernie would taste like had consumed her. Would she be musky? Salty? Sweet? She’d read that a person’s diet had some impact, and had idly wondered what impact an exclusive diet of coffee, wine and takeaway would have. Now she knew. It was a unique taste, not something she’d ever be able to describe, but heady and wondrous and just... _ Bernie.  _ She moaned in delight, nudging Bernie’s thighs a little further apart to get more room. 

She’d bought a book - just for her kindle, obviously, she wouldn’t have wanted to have to find a space on her bookshelves next to her medical textbooks and antique edition of the complete works of Shakespeare for a how-to guide to cunnilingus - but all the techniques she’d faithfully studied deserted her. Instead, she did what she liked herself. Gentle licks, lapping through slick folds, teasing round her clit without touching. She felt Bernie’s fingers thread into her hair, her hips rising to meet her mouth. Without conscious thought, she curled her hands round Bernie’s thighs, anchoring herself and holding her lover in place.

“You’re delicious,” she whispered, so quietly that there was no way Bernie would have heard her if the room hadn’t been so preternaturally still and silent, like they were balancing on the edge of a knife. “I love this. I never want to stop tasting you.”

Bernie whimpered, her eyes slamming closed, her breath coming hard through her nose. “Serena,” she moaned, like she’d forgotten every other word. Perhaps she had.

Serena continued her gentle assault, always skirting past where she knew she was wanted most, her tongue fluttering, teasing, building her up until she could tell she was desperate. It would be cruel to make her wait longer.

“Look at me,” she whispered softly, raising her head just an inch or two. Bernie’s hips jerked up of their own accord, desperately looking for that warm, wonderful mouth. “Look at me,” Serena repeated, and finally her instruction penetrated the fog of arousal enveloping her lover. Her eyes blinked open and she met her gaze at last. They stared at each other, letting the emotion and desire and need build up between them. Then Serena dipped her head one last time, her lips pursing. She sucked Bernie’s clit into her mouth, her tongue lapping in quick, gentle strokes, and Bernie came with a shuddering, silent sigh, her face rapturous and joyous and almost surprised. She maintained eye contact with Serena the entire time, staring into her lover’s eyes as her hips jerked and her flesh throbbed and her fingers clenched almost painfully in Serena’s hair. She was so beautiful that Serena felt a ripple of sympathetic pleasure flow through her. Another first.

Slowly, Bernie’s hands began to relax, releasing Serena’s hair from their death grip. She stroked the soft strands, trying to soothe what she knew must be pain from the strength of her grasping fingers. Serena was resting against her inner thigh, smiling smugly as she gazed up at her. “Satisfactory?” she asked, her eyebrow raised practically into her hairline.

“All that clutching and moaning didn’t give you a clue?” Bernie replied, breathless. She felt absolutely glorious: relaxed, sated, languorous, all her muscles humming in pleasure.

Serena laughed, low and free and joyous. She brought her hand up to stroke through her lover’s damp curls, trailing her fingers over all the places her tongue had just explored. Bernie flinched away, over-sensitive now and Serena removed her hand, but only as far as her inner thigh. 

“Again?” Bernie asked in surprise. “Haven’t you had enough yet?”

Serena flashed her a wicked grin as she moved to straddle her. “Oh, my darling,” she purred. “Haven’t I ever told you I’ve never seen the point of just one?”


	2. Seconds Out, Round Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continued adventures of Bernie and Serena on their first night together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I intended this to be more porn but it ended up being feelings? Sorry! I mean, probably no-one will complain, but still.

Serena sighed in contentment as she curled her fingers round Bernie’s waist, resting her head on her shoulder and tangling their legs together beneath the sheets. Bernie was trailing her fingers through her hair, leaning down to drop occasional kisses on her forehead. Serena’s body felt almost liquid, worn out and boneless and utterly fulfilled. Any qualms she’d harboured about whether she would really enjoy sex with a woman or whether she’d know what to do had been well and truly quashed. It turned out that she did like it - a lot - and that she was really, really bloody good at it. 

At least, she was really good at it with Bernie, which was quite stupendously lucky, given that she had no intention of trying out her skills with anyone else. Because something else had become abundantly clear tonight, along with the revelations about her preferences and her hitherto unsuspected carnal abilities with the fairer sex.

She was in love. Hopelessly, head over heels, deliriously, irretrievably in love. With Bernie Wolfe.

She’d known that was where this was all heading, of course. She wasn’t the kind of woman to approach romantic entanglements casually, not at her age anyway. If it wasn’t going somewhere, what was the point? Especially now she had Jason to consider, who needed stability, routine, order. 

“You all right?” Bernie murmured. Serena jerked a little, startled out of her thoughts.

“Perfect,” she said, pressing a kiss to the curve of Bernie’s jaw. “You?”

“Wonderful.”

Serena smiled. “Well then,” she said. “The world can go round.”

They lay together quietly for a little longer, so long in fact that Serena wondered if Bernie had fallen asleep. She wouldn’t blame her. It was eleven o’clock and they’d been having some pretty vigorous exercise for most of the last five hours. Sleep would likely be a more fleeting prospect for Serena herself. She chewed her bottom lip absently as she considered the conundrum with which she’d been faced.

Honesty. That was the crux of the matter. The only reason they had got this far was because they’d both been honest with each other. No obfuscation, not after Serena’s foolish attempts to be a wingwoman anyway. No pretence that they didn’t both want the same thing. She thought of Bernie’s admission that night in Albie’s, how vulnerable she’d allowed herself to be for once. Serena could easily have said she wasn’t interested, albeit gently. It had been brave - braver, she thought, than her own coming out, as nerve-wracking as that had been.

Did she owe Bernie some of that same vulnerability now? That bravery? Or was a declaration of love at this stage of their relationship more of a burden than a gift? She certainly didn’t want Bernie to feel beholden, like she needed to say something she didn’t really feel. Equally - and this was a more selfish consideration - she didn’t want to scare her off. She didn’t think she could bear that.

She was jolted from this reverie by the loud and insistent growling of Bernie’s stomach. “Oops,” Bernie said. “Sorry. Haven’t eaten since twelve.”

Serena’s lips quirked. “I beg to differ,” she said, and felt Bernie’s answering laugh rumble beneath her ear. She pressed a kiss to the underside of Bernie’s chin before throwing off the covers. “Come on. I’ve got the remains of a curry in the fridge.”

Bernie felt around on the floor for her clothes. “Maybe not the best idea for the first night we spend together,” she suggested. “I wouldn’t want to ruin all the mystique at this stage of the game.”

A slight blush coloured Serena’s cheekbones but she laughed and nodded. Five minutes later, shirts and knickers retrieved, they were rifling through the fridge. In the end, a cold supper of ham sandwiches, breadsticks and the last of a half empty tub of hummus was organised. They sat at the kitchen table, bare legs tangling together, grinning like idiots over each other’s mussed appearance.

“Day off tomorrow,” Bernie ventured after she’d at least partially sated her hunger.

Serena smiled. “Yes, it has all worked out rather well, hasn’t it?” she said. “It’s like someone planned it.”

Bernie glanced at her with narrowed eyes. “Did you?” she asked, but Serena shook her head.

“No, I’m afraid today’s sapphic meltdown was entirely spontaneous,” she said, leaning over to take Bernie’s hand in hers. “Can you blame me? It might be worse on Thursday, now I know what these hands can do…”

And not just her hands, either. The talents of Bernie’s mouth she’d been prepared for, but who would have thought that a firm, muscled thigh would be enough to make her come completely undone? She’d clearly been missing something all these years with men.

She shook her head slightly to clear that thought, then found Bernie looking at her with warm, liquid brown eyes. Her gaze was so intimate, so thoroughly filled with desire and longing, that she felt it strike at her heart and then travel directly to the juncture of her thighs without passing Go or collecting £200.

“How exactly do you manage to make me feel like a horny teenager?” she said wonderingly, her voice low and a shade huskier than normal.

Bernie swallowed hard. “I imagine it’s similar to how you do it to me,” she replied, then grinned. “I mean, the noun may be wrong, but the adjective has been true for...oh, months.”

Serena squeezed her hand. “How long?”

“Oh...arm wrestling,” Bernie admitted, blushing. “I didn’t actually mean to let you win. But you were so...I mean the sound you were making, and the way you screwed your face up…” She shook her head as if to clear it. “I’m only human.”

Serena smiled, delighted, remembering the little frisson of electricity she’d felt that day, the first moment their hands had touched. There had been something there from the start. Maybe it wasn’t all that soon to be making declarations after all. The foreplay had been going on for months, did it matter that they’d only made things official five weeks ago?

Again, Bernie interrupted her thoughts. “Do you mind if I have a shower before we go back to bed?”

Serena blinked once, then twice. She grinned. “I have a better idea…”

* * * * *

The hot spray of the shower pounded unheeded between Serena’s shoulder blades. She barely felt it, wrapped up as she was in kissing Bernie and running her hands through her slicked back hair and over her wet skin. This was an unaccustomed pleasure - few of her previous lovers had been the showering together kind. And anyway, they’d been variously too tall, too broad shouldered or too unimaginative (all three in Robbie’s case) for the idea to have held much interest.

Bernie though. She was like the baby bear’s porridge - just right in every possible way.

“I want you to know I’m thinking about getting down on my knees to show my appreciation for this very fine idea,” Bernie whispered against her shoulder, just loud enough to be heard over the shower’s spray. “But I’m slightly concerned I wouldn’t be able to get up again.”

A thrill of heat shuddered through Serena at the idea of Bernie on her knees, staring up at her with those beautiful eyes, her lips parted as she demonstrated exactly how glad she was that Serena had suggested showering together. “Who said I’d ever let you up again anyway?” she half growled, earning a laugh and a shiver from her lover. Given the temperature of the water, she was fairly sure said shiver was not due to feeling cold.

Deciding that getting Bernie back into bed was definitely the order of the day, Serena squeezed some shampoo into her hands and began to gently massage it into Bernie’s scalp. Bernie dropped her head to make her job easier and groaned in pleasure. “Oh God, no-one’s done this for me in years,” she said softly.

Serena felt her heart clench, thinking of the years - decades - Bernie had spent putting up a front, being strong for other people. “I’ll do it for you every day, if you like,” she said softly, then blanched at the implication of permanency, of intimacy. “I mean, as long as the indulgence doesn’t make you late for work.”

Bernie hummed in amused appreciation as she ducked her head under the spray to rinse off. “Definitely not,” she said, closing her eyes against the suds. “The woman who co-leads my ward is a real harridan.”

“Is she now?” Serena replied archly, the corners of her mouth tugging upwards despite her tone.

“Absolutely,” Bernie said, then blinked her eyes open. “Kind of turns me on though.”

Serena grinned. “I’m learning so much about you tonight, Ms Wolfe.”

To her regret, Serena had already washed her own hair before the shower turned properly romantic, so Bernie wasn’t able to return the favour.  _ Next time,  _ she thought, smiling. There would definitely be a next time. Maybe even the following night. They both had the day off and there was no way she was planning to let Bernie out of her sight for the next twenty-four hours.

They stood side by side at the sink, towels wrapped around their bodies and hair, brushing their teeth in cosy silence. Serena had produced a brand new toothbrush she’d bought in anticipation of just this occasion. 

“I forgot to ask,” Bernie said, once they’d rinsed out their mouths and dropped their toothbrushes next to each other in the same glass like they could belong nowhere else, “what is Jason doing with Alan, exactly?”

Serena padded out of the ensuite into the bedroom, towelling her hair dry. Bernie followed her. “They’ve gone camping,” Serena said. “With Celia and her mother.”

Bernie’s eyebrows raised practically to her hairline. “Camping?” she said. “Jason? But it’s so...outdoorsy and dirty and unpredictable.”

Serena shrugged. “He assured me he could handle it,” she said.

Bernie looked impressed. “Must be the real thing with Celia, for him to brave a couple of nights in a tent.”

Serena smiled, not quite able to meet Bernie’s eyes. “Well, you know what they say,” she began. “Love makes fools of us all. Makes people do...crazy things. Things we’d scarce imagined.” 

Her heart was pounding. It felt dangerous even skirting round this subject. Sure, they were talking about Jason and Celia, but Serena felt suddenly exposed.

“Hmm,” Bernie agreed. “I suppose you’re right. Like going to therapy.”

Serena’s head snapped up. “What?” There was an ocean of meaning in that one syllable.

Bernie seemed to be having trouble meeting her eyes. “My therapist gave me homework this week,” she said. 

Serena blinked at the seeming non-sequitur. “Oh?”

“Yes,” Bernie said. “I have to do something that scares me.” She held up a finger, like she was counting items on a list. “I have to tell someone something I’ve never told anyone before.” She held up a second finger. “And I have to let myself be vulnerable with someone I care about.” A third finger was raised. Finally, she looked into Serena’s eyes. “I’m going to do all three at once.”

The mood was so thick all of a sudden that it was almost solid. Serena couldn’t help but joke. “Always an overachiever.”

Bernie smiled, soft and shy. “I love you, Serena,” she said simply.

All the air seemed to leave Serena’s lungs in a rush. “Oh,” she said, tears pricking insistently behind her eyelids. “Oh God, I love you too.” She reached for Bernie, pulling her close to hold her tight against her chest. She pressed her lips to her forehead, murmuring words that she’d never, even when pressed, be able to remember.

“Really?” Bernie breathed, and Serena’s heart clenched at the uncertainty in her voice.

“Of course,” she murmured. “The whole night I’ve been wrestling with whether I should say anything, and then you go and beat me to the punch!”

“Sorry,” Bernie breathed, but she didn’t sound sorry. She sounded like a mix of relieved and ecstatic and jubilant. Serena felt her muscles relax as she hugged her back, and then seconds later she was being kissed.

It began loving and relatively chaste, but within moments it had transformed into something altogether more. The towels dropped to the floor, forgotten. Serena ran her hands over the muscled planes of Bernie’s back, marvelling at the controlled strength she felt there. Bernie broke away temporarily, just long enough to lead Serena back to the bed. As soon as they were horizontal again, Serena’s lips found Bernie’s ear.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” she whispered, feeling the shudder run down her lover’s spine. “I love you so much, darling. So, so much.”

Bernie didn’t reply in words. She seemed intent on showing Serena how she felt instead. Her lips were everywhere - trailing over Serena’s forehead, her throat, her chest, down to her breasts where she worshipped for whole minutes. Serena was nearly panting by the time she raised her head and captured her lips again. The kiss was a little frantic, open-mouthed and wet and almost sloppy, but no less perfect for all that.

It was coming up for one o’clock in the morning. The early hour seemed to create a little bubble of magic just for them, like they were the only two people awake in the world. With a deep, contented sigh, Bernie dragged her lips from Serena’s. “Can we...together?” she breathed, burying her face in Serena’s neck.

“Might need a verb in there darling,” Serena replied, but she knew exactly what Bernie meant. Of course she did.

Bernie barked out a tiny laugh. “Sorry,” she said, then seemed to decide that actions spoke louder than words anyway. With what barely seemed like any effort, she stretched her lithe frame and hooked a leg over Serena’s thigh. She reared up, straddling Serena’s leg, her wet hair falling down in a riot of waves above her shoulders. Serena drew in a breath. She was beautiful. So beautiful.

Reverently, she trailed her fingers down Bernie’s chest, watching goosebumps spring up in the wake of her touch. Bernie’s stomach muscles contracted as Serena’s hand’s path continued, before she slid her fingers between her own thigh and Bernie’s warmth. The angle was slightly awkward but she could tell from the flush on her lover’s chest and the wetness beneath her fingertips that it wouldn’t matter in the least.

“You feel so good,” Serena murmured, feeling Bernie begin to move gently against her hand. She barely suppressed a gasp when she felt Bernie’s fingers slide over her skin and then, ever so gently, slip inside her. “Oh, yes,” she moaned. “Please.”

They moved together for long, languorous minutes, Bernie’s back arching, her hips undulating, her lips slightly parted. Serena thought she looked like some Greek statue come to life, all pale skin and perfect lines. Scarred, yes. Battleworn and weary, yes. But so alive, so vibrant, so utterly unexpected and wonderful. What a gift, Serena thought, to have met this woman at this precise moment in her life, to have become her friend, to have been woken up by her, to be allowed to love her and be loved in return.

“Together, darling?” she breathed, and she wasn’t just talking about what they were doing now, the imminent end their bodies were straining towards.

“Yes,” Bernie gasped, seeming to encompass every meaning the word could suggest into that one syllable. “Serena…”

Serena felt the first flutters against her fingertips, watched the colour rise on Bernie’s cheeks as she trembled and gasped. It was enough to send her tumbling over the edge herself, spinning like a leaf in the wind as she clutched at Bernie’s back, pulling her down on top of her and feeling her shudder and sigh against her skin.

She couldn’t say how long they lay there, just breathing each other in and waiting for their heart rates to normalise. Eventually, Serena found herself laughing. Bernie raised her head, frowning. “What is it?” she asked.

Serena shook her head. “I’m just so happy,” she said.

Bernie’s face softened. “Me too,” she said, leaning down to press a kiss against her lips.

It took a few moments for them to untangle their limbs, to rub feeling back into suddenly numb fingers and to rearrange themselves into a loose embrace. Serena’s head rested on Bernie’s shoulder, her fingers drawing indistinct patterns on the skin of her stomach.

“Do you want to go out for lunch tomorrow?” Bernie said softly. The room was calm and quiet, with nothing but the sound of their skin sliding together as one or the other moved their bare legs to find a more comfortable position.

Serena curled her fingers round the dip of Bernie’s waist. “Are you asking me on a date, Ms Wolfe?”

Bernie smiled. “It’s important to keep the romance alive in a relationship,” she said, feigning a wise and sage tone. “Wouldn’t want you to start getting bored.”

Serena grinned, thinking of all the wonderful ways Bernie had turned her world upside down since they’d met, all the times she’d challenged her or surprised her. Like tonight. Who would have thought Bernie would be the one to take a leap into uncertainty first?

How could she possibly ever get bored when every moment with Bernie was a delightful surprise?

“No chance of that, darling,” she said. “So. Where are you taking me?”

But before Bernie got through more than four suggestions of potential restaurants, Serena drifted away into a deep, sated and thoroughly well-earned sleep. Bernie smiled and dropped a kiss onto her forehead. It didn’t matter, she thought. There’d be plenty of time to make a choice in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: The Day Off. In which there might just be no porn at all.


	3. The Day Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernie and Serena have a day off together.

Serena woke slowly to the sensation of a warm, naked body spooning her from behind and short, blunt nails scratching slowly across her back. A smile tugged her lips upwards as she arched into the touch. Her back tingled everywhere those magic fingers roamed. “Mmm,” she moaned blissfully. “I don’t remember the last time someone did that.”

Bernie’s touch gradually transformed into a slow caress. “Criminal,” she murmured, feeling the muscles of Serena’s back subtly flex beneath her skin. Gently, she let her fingertips trace over the tiny, faded scars on Serena’s shoulders. 

Serena tensed, her breath catching slightly. Bernie slowly slid her hand down her arm and curled it round her waist. She didn’t say anything. After a moment, Serena brought her hand up to tangle their fingers together and sighed.

“Aren’t you going to ask?” she said tightly, remembering the first time Robbie had seen her shoulders, how she’d jumped to the conclusion that Edward had been abusive, how he’d ranted and raved and threatened to find him and punch his lights out before finally listening to what had actually happened. She had despised the pity in his eyes, even as she’d taken the path of least resistance and submitted to his desire to comfort her.

Bernie silently pressed a kiss to her shoulder blade. “No, I’m not going to ask,” she whispered. Her lips kissed a trail over Serena’s shoulder to the back of her neck. “I’m not going to ask you a thing.” Her hand moved firmly across Serena’s stomach before dipping lower. Serena’s breath hitched.

“Oh,” she breathed. She hadn’t imagined it was possible - not at her age, anyway - that after the hours of sweaty passion, then the soft and tender lovemaking that had followed, she could still want more. But she did. Her whole body was coming alive under Bernie’s touch. It was all she could do to keep breathing as Bernie’s fingers stroked firmly through her wetness.

“You feel so good,” Bernie murmured. “I love you.”

Serena whimpered in reply, her whole body condensing to the points where it was in contact with Bernie’s. Everything was heat and softness and delicious, delicious pressure. It didn’t take long before Serena was balling her fists in the duvet, her breath coming in soft pants, her hips straining towards Bernie’s hand. “Oh, fuck,” she gasped. “Bernie!”

Bernie pressed her lips to Serena’s ear. “Come for me, darling,” she whispered and Serena felt herself fall over the edge, moaning and keening and almost sobbing in sheer, unadulterated joy as she pulsed and fluttered against Bernie’s fingertips.

Bernie eased her through the aftershocks, murmuring into her ear and kissing her shoulder as she came down from her high. When Serena became too sensitive to be touched she gently drew away, returning her hand to Serena’s stomach and finding her hand to thread their fingers together.

“You’re actually amazing, do you know that?”

Bernie’s lips twitched in amused pleasure. “Amazing, you say,” she purred. Serena slapped playfully at her hand.

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

Bernie laughed as Serena rolled onto her back to look up at her, eyes shining. Serena trailed her hand through soft blonde curls. “I love you,” she said.

Bernie’s face softened. “I love you too.” She leaned down to kiss her, but Serena turned her face away at the last second. 

“Morning breath,” she protested. “None of that until after we brush our teeth.”

Bernie raised an eyebrow. “I don’t care about your breath, Serena,” she said, but the other woman was already throwing off the duvet and twisting out of bed.

“Perhaps not darling, but I care about yours.”

Bernie opened her mouth to reply before becoming distracted by the sway of Serena’s hips as she sauntered into the en-suite. She grinned as she scrambled out of bed to follow her.

An hour later, after teeth had been brushed and showers had been taken and a very pleasurable detour back to bed had been indulged in, they sat down at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee each.

“So, what do you want to do today?”

Bernie resisted the urge to make the obvious, flirty reply. “Uhm, I think lunch was mentioned,” she said. “And before that...maybe you’d like to take a walk with me in the park?”

Serena smiled shyly. “Sounds wonderful,” she said, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to Bernie’s lips. “But then, everything with you sounds wonderful.”

Bernie insisted on stopping at the supermarket on their way to the park. Apparently there were some very hungry ducks at this particular park who would need to be appeased with offerings of food. “You’re buying  _ new _ bread for ducks?” Serena asked incredulously as Bernie grabbed a basket at the front of the store. She was sure stale bread was more traditional.

“God no,” Bernie replied, frowning. “Bread swells up in a duck’s stomach. I’m buying  _ lettuce. _ ”

The supermarket was moderately busy for a weekday, but as they were only buying one thing it didn’t take long to select the optimum lettuce and find their way to a queue. “Why don’t you use the self-checkout?” Serena asked, glancing at the four pristine unused machines near the door.

Bernie shuddered. “I hate those things. It’s all _unexpected item in the bagging area_ this and _please wait for assistance_ that. Plus they do people out of work.” Bernie was about to add another item to her list of reasons why self-checkouts were the devil when she noticed the fond smile spreading across Serena’s face. “What?”

Serena shook her head. “I just love you,” she said simply.

A blush coloured Bernie’s cheeks but before she could say anything in reply the cashier drew their attention. “Good morning!” he said brightly. “We have some pupils from the local school packing bags to raise money for new sports equipment.” He looked down at the solitary head of Romaine they were buying. “But I don’t suppose you’ll need a bag.”

“But you can donate some cash anyway, right?” a familiar voice interjected. “My dad says consultants are  _ well  _ overpaid.”

Serena turned to face the cheekily grinning face of Mikey Fletcher. “Watch it you,” she said, but she pulled out her purse anyway and found a ten pound note to shove into his collecting tin. “I’m sure I pay council tax that’s meant to cover things like this,” she grumbled.

“Yeah,” Mikey said. “Well, seven years of Tory government have led to a chronic underfunding of frontline services and headteachers are having to make hard decisions.” He said it like he was reciting from a book.

Bernie’s lips twitched as she handed over the money for her lettuce. “Another pearl of wisdom from your dad?” she asked.

Mikey shook his head. “Nah, that’s what my form teacher said when we complained about having to come here instead of doing PE.”

Serena snorted with laughter. “Well, good luck,” she said, then turned to Bernie cocked her head. “Come on, darling. The ducks aren’t feeding themselves.”

They walked the rest of the way to the park in silence: Serena enjoying the morning sun and Bernie chewing fretfully on her bottom lip. They passed a couple of mums out with their toddlers and Serena smiled and cooed over the kids for a minute while Bernie continued to brood in the background. At last they made it to the pond and stopped, leaning over the handrail of the bridge that spanned the small pool so they could drop shredded lettuce pieces into the water and watch a horde of ducks greedily gobbling them up.

When the silence was beginning to become unbearable, Serena opened her mouth to speak. Bernie beat her to it. “Have you ever noticed how ducks just look like they’re wearing dog masks?” she asked.

Serena blinked once, then twice, completely nonplussed. “What?”

Bernie blushed. “Their bills,” she tried to explain. “You know how they have those two dark spots...and the bit at the front…” She gestured towards the nearest duck, then gave up, hanging her head. “Never mind.”

Serena laid her hand tentatively on the small of her back and rubbed gently. “What’s wrong?”

Bernie sighed, her jaw working silently. “Mikey,” she admitted at last. She seemed to be having trouble meeting Serena’s eyes.

“What about him?”

Bernie shrugged, her face colouring slightly. She threw another piece of lettuce down to the ducks and watched as they all shot towards it, quacking and squabbling as they fought over it. “You called me darling, back at the shop,” she said softly. “Mikey might mention that to his dad. And Fletch is a bit of blabbermouth.” She tore off another piece of lettuce and threw it into the pond.

Serena turned and looked down at the pond, sudden tears stinging her eyes. “Oh,” she breathed. “You...you didn’t want people at work to know.” She discreetly swiped at her eyelids. “Well, you can set your mind at ease,” she said bitterly. “I call everyone ‘darling’ so I doubt Mikey would think anything of it. It’s not like I stuck my tongue down your throat in the middle of the biscuit aisle.”

Bernie’s eyes were widening in a mix of surprise and relief. “Wait,” she said, turning towards her.  _ “You  _ want people to know?”

Serena’s jaw clenched. “Well, I hadn’t anticipated going into work draped in pink, lavender and blue, climbing onto the nurses’ station with a megaphone and announcing it to the world,” she huffed. “But...well, I rather thought you wouldn’t mind our friends knowing.” She looked away. “Obviously I was mistaken.” She kept her voice prim, a study in dignity.

To her surprise, Bernie began to laugh. She rounded on her, ready to launch into a lecture about how seriously she took this relationship, what it meant to her to have opened up like this. Bernie held up her hands to stop her.

“Sorry,” she said. “It’s just...I thought you hated gossip? Particularly that caused by workplace romances?”

Serena’s mouth snapped shut. “Who told you that?” she said at last.

Bernie shook her head, smiling fondly. “Morven,” she said. “She told me you gave Arthur quite a speech when they first got together.”

With a rueful smile, Serena took a few pieces of lettuce from Bernie’s hands and began to shred them. She dropped them in one at a time, watching the green leaves drift onto the surface of the pond to be gobbled up by the greedy ducks. “Well, that’s a rather good example, isn’t it?” she said. “Arthur and Morven were made for each other. They had so little time as it was; what a tragedy it would have been if they’d lost out on that because of something as silly as other people’s opinions.” She risked a glance at Bernie, who was staring at her with those soft, brown eyes. “We’re neither of us in the first flush of youth,” she continued. “I don’t want to waste any more time.”

She threw the last piece of lettuce down, narrowing her eyes as she watched the ducks swallowing their treat. “Dog masks?”

Ignoring her last words, Bernie silently folded Serena into her arms, tucking her head beneath her chin and squeezing until Serena relaxed against her, her arms sliding around Bernie’s waist. “I’m sorry,” Bernie murmured. “I shouldn’t have assumed. I thought people knowing would upset you.”

“Mind-reading and catastrophising again?” Serena said, nuzzling into Bernie’s neck and dropping a kiss onto her pulse point.

Bernie nodded. “Something to tell my therapist anyway.”

Serena pulled her head back, smiling gently as she looked into Bernie’s eyes. “I love you,” she said, then swallowed hard.  _ Bravery,  _ her mind said.  _ Honesty. _ “I...I feel like maybe I’ve been waiting my whole life to find you. Does that sound stupid?”

Bernie shook her head, smiling against sudden tears. “No,” she breathed. “No, darling. It doesn’t sound stupid.”

They both leaned forward together, breathing deeply through their noses as their lips met. Bernie’s hands cupped Serena’s cheeks, her thumbs stroking over her cheekbones as they kissed, their lips pressing and sliding and caressing in a familiar slow dance.

Serena was smiling when they parted, her eyes still closed. Bernie’s hands slid to her shoulders, curling round the curve of them as she pulled Serena minutely closer. “Why didn’t you ask me about my scars?” Serena asked. “This morning, I mean.” She opened her eyes so she could watch Bernie as she answered.

Bernie frowned. “If you want me to know, you’ll tell me,” she said simply.

Serena let that answer sink in for a moment, feeling it warm her down to the marrow of her bones. She smiled. “I want you to know everything about me,” she said. “But that conversation requires wine.” She held out her hand for Bernie to take. “Lunch?”

Bernie slid her hand into Serena’s and nodded. They walked together silently for a few moments before Serena frowned.

“Really? Dog masks?”

Behind them, the ducks scattered in alarm as Bernie’s uninhibited braying laugh reverberated through the park.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I...I don't even know, you guys.


End file.
